


Cowboys and Indians

by KarieChaos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Roleplay, Rope Bondage, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarieChaos/pseuds/KarieChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has always had a cowboy fetish, Sam is just deciding to indulge him in it. Inspired by Season 6 Episode 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowboys and Indians

Cowboys and Indians  
By: Karie Chaos

Disclaimer:  
I don't own any of it. I can only borrow the ideas and write fun smutty things for it. Sam/Dean slash, so if that's not your thing, please just move along. If it is, read on my friend!

 

~*~

 

Dean stomped into the hotel room cursing under his breath and shaking snow out of his hair. It never failed, the time he didn't take the Impala was the one fucking time it snowed. Of course. If not for bad luck, some days he swore he'd have no luck at all. He peeled his coat off and flung it over a chair, still brushing snow from his hair.

“Sam?”

He looked up, automatically searching out his brother, but the room was empty, the beds still rumpled from where they slept in them. He grumbled, but assumed Sam was out scaring up food or something. He checked the bathroom, the closet, and the salt before he flopped down on his bed, reaching over to a stack of quarters and plopping one into the slot before he lay back, the vibration starting up with a low-level hum. Oh yeah. That felt real good... 

Zzzz...

~*~

He didn't wake up until the door slammed and there was a muffled curse. He sat up with a gun in his hand before he focused on Sam and set it aside on the table. All he could see of Sam were bags, wrapped in plastic with snow quickly melting down the outsides. His brother was frosted in white and Dean grinned, he couldn't help it.

“Christmas shopping early, Samantha?”

“Shut up. It's coming down in white-out conditions, we're not going anywhere for a while. The radio in the store said they aren't going to bother ploughing the roads until it stops.”

“Well its a good thing we can walk to the diner.”

“Yeah. Here. Go put this on and don't ask any questions.”

Sam threw him a bag and his first impulse was to pull it open and look, not obey. But apparently his brother was way ahead of him. It was wrapped in layers of bags, plastic and paper both, and some were tied or stapled shut. He grumbled and stood up, the bag heavy in his hands.

“What is it?”

“It's a surprise. If you want your surprise, you'll go put that on and wait about five minutes. I need to set the rest up.”

Dean gave his brother a look, because... Was Sam blushing? Okay... He grinned and hefted the bag.

“Five minutes. Right.”

He went into the bathroom, not bothering to flip the flimsy lock on the door, but he could hear Sam moving around. He shrugged and set the bag on the cracked Formica and started ripping the layers apart. When he reached the contents he blinked and then he got the biggest grin he could remember having on his face. He could feel his face aching from the size.

He held up the chambray shirt with it's wooden buttons and faint blue checks. He saw a pair of boots in the bottom under a pair of pants and a hat box underneath the boots. He even saw a black box that looked like it came from a jewellery store or something. He peeled his t-shirt and jeans off and started dressing, stomping his feet into the boots with a raised eyebrow of surprise for the good fit. They went over the pants he'd been given, and they were black leather, matte not shiny, but they fit like they'd been made for him.

He checked himself out in the speckled mirror and raised a brow from underneath the black hat he had perched on his head. It looked authentic, not kitschy, and he didn't look too bad. He reached in the bag and pulled out a black leather vest that he donned, and then the black box. He could still hear Sam moving around, and some strange noises, but he still had a few minutes. He opened the box and blinked. It was old, antique probably, but it was a badge. A sheriffs badge. He grinned and pinned it through the pocket of the shirt so that the curved edge showed just a little around the vest.

He didn't see anything else in the bag so he shoved it all in the sink and stepped back for a better look. Then the door rattled slightly and Sam's muffled voice came through.

“You can come out now. And so help me God, if you laugh, I will shoot you in the face.”

He raised a brow at his reflection and then reigned in his grin of little-boy-thrill and opened the door.

Sam was crossing the floor away from him, but from the back all Dean could see was buckskin. And skin.

Sam was wearing a pair of snug buckskin pants and moccasins, with no shirt on, just a beaded band around each arm and something clasped around his neck. He stopped beside the bed and picked something up before he turned, and he had something painted on his chest, it didn't look fresh, so he must have had it done hours ago, but there were patterns painted in black and a red-brown across his chest. He even had two feathers and a series of beads strung in his hair on one side. He was blushing again, but Dean couldn't help but find it cute.

“Cowboy's and Indians? Really Sam?”

His brother frowned at him and then scooped something up from the bed and tossed it, in one quick motion. Dean caught it automatically, before he looked at the coil of rope in his hands and then he grinned again. Sam looked nervous, but Dean just strolled across the floor, his hat pulled low so that his eyes were just a dark glimmer under the brim. The boots changed the way he walked, and it added to his swagger, so he took his time, before he grabbed Sam's wrist and began winding the rope around it.

“You have the strangest streak of kinky in you, Sammy.”

“Shut up, you're the one with the cowboy fetish.”

Dean just grinned and turned then so that Sam stumbled over the edge of the bed and fell back, his arm jerked forward by the coil of rope around it. Dean was over him quickly, pulling his other arm up and wrapping the rope around the headboard and pulling it up between the mattress and the bottom of the wood, since it was solid, with no bars. Then he tied the free hand down, leaving enough room for Sam to move, but not to get away.

“Yeah, but you bring all the toys. Now shut up, you're my captive, you're not allowed to complain.”

“Jerk.”

Dean smirked and sat across his hips, the buckskin already tight, laced shut in the front, so he toyed with the knot that had been tied, teasing him a little. Then he reached up, smoothing his fingers across the paint on Sam's chest, tracing the figures painted there, small simple human forms and the flight of a dark bird over one pectoral muscle and the other side printed with a set of bear tracks. The paint didn't smear on his hands, so it was definitely something Sam had planned for. He grinned and dug his fingers into the thick muscle before his hands rubbed across the flat nipples, the heel of his hand scraping them lightly. 

“You always think of the fun games, Sammy. Thanks for the surprise.”

Sam just smiled up at him a little and then arched his back when Dean's fingers plucked at his nipples, bringing them to attention and tormenting them with small squeezes and the sudden rasp of a blunt fingernail. Dean enjoyed playing and then he traced the flying bird with his fingertip.

“What's the paint?”

Sam needed a minute, swallowing hard, his throat moving with the motion and distracting his brother with the movement against the beaded choker wrapped there. Dean leaned down and nipped the skin above the wooden beads, leaving a tiny rosette behind before he sat up, rolling his hips.

“Well?”

Sam choked a little but he responded, his voice rasping from a thick throat.

“Its body paint. Flavoured, it's edible.”

“Well. That's new. Did you keep the stuff?”

“Bought it. Its in a bag.”

“Good. We can play with that again later.”

“Thought so.”

Dean grinned at the choked words as he rocked his hips. He could feel Sam's erection under him, pressing against the soft buckskin and the rough cloth of the pants. There wasn't a damn thing about his brother that was really little, but his little brother always surprised him. He leaned down and swiped his tongue over the tiny people, the paint smearing a little under the moist heat of his tongue and leaving a taste of cinnamon in his mouth. He curled his tongue up against the roof of his mouth a little, surprised at the spice of it. It must have burned a little going on, but Sam had his moments. 

He hid a smirk and reached under himself, easing the knot holding the Indian costume shut apart as he licked at the cinnamon people and then passed his tingling tongue over a peaked nipple, transferring the spice to the sensitive flesh. Sam gasped and then groaned as his hips bucked and his body shuddered. Dean chuckled and closed his mouth around the upthrust of flesh, sucking lightly as he tormented him with the cinnamon in his mouth before he worked a hand into the pants he had opened, palming his brother and making him give a strangled yell. He heard the bed creak as Sam pulled at his hands, but they were tied firmly, and Dean knew his knots. 

He lifted his head and grinned before he lapped at one of the bear tracks, and got a hit of chocolate from it. He laughed and leaned up, catching Sam's gleaming green eyes, the green almost over-shadowed by black pupil.

“Cinnamon and chocolate?”

Sam just looked at him, and then he tried to speak but Dean squeezed him in his hand and Sam's head kicked back with a long moan instead. Dean just chuckled and leaned down, kissing him with cinnamon lips and chocolate on his tongue. Sam kissed back, chasing the smears and hints of candy with his own tongue until they were devouring each other, Sam's hands clasped around the rough rope binding him. 

Dean pulled away eventually and sat back, peeling the vest off to the sound of Sam's moan as his hand scraped him and then the shifting weight of Dean's body rubbed him where his cock poked out of the costume. He winked and draped the black leather over Sam's body, unbuttoning the shirt as he rocked his hips, almost like he was riding Sam already. Sam was moaning under him, and he liked how he looked, sweating a little, strands of dark hair clinging to his jaw and his shoulders as ripples of muscle tensing under his skin showed in the glow of the overhead lights. He pitched the shirt aside, the thunk of the badge hitting the floor muffled by fabric as he shrugged the leather back on, not caring about how it stuck to his own skin. Then he rose up on his knees, undoing his own pants and edging them down to his hipbones.

Eyes were glued to the edge of his pants, craving that last inch of movement, the glimpse of skin. He smirked and moved to edge them down, watching the darkening of his brother's irises and then the moan of disappointment when he shifted sideways off him instead, the edge of pink tongue moistening dry lips making him suck in a breath. He smirked and leaned down, removing the boots briefly before he sat back up and hooked his fingers in Sam's pants, peeling them down and tossing them to the floor. He didn't worry about the moccasins, they weren't in his way.

He didn't remove his jeans yet, he leaned down instead and pressed a series of sucking, open-mouthed kisses along Sam's hip, leaving marks in his wake as he moved along the curve of his body and then he lapped at the crease where his hip met his torso, a shift of muscle telling him that Sam was writhing above him, trying to push his body closer to where Dean's mouth was. Dean didn't mind, he moved further over, ignoring the upthrust length of Sam's cock and sucking at the skin around it instead, sensitive and shaved. They both did, mostly because if they wanted to be sucked off, it was just better to be cleaned up down there.

Dean shifted around and then bit, just to the left of the base of Sam's cock, where a fading mark said he'd done that before, and Sam choked out a cry, his body jerking as a thick bead of white escaped the tip of his cock, hanging perfectly for a moment before gravity won and it landed on his stomach.

“DEAN~”

He grinned and licked the mark before he sat up and slid his pants off the rest of the way. Then he thought about it and shoved his feet back into the boots, a grin on his face as he found the lube in the drawer of the table between their beds, where it could be reached from either one. He didn't need it yet, but better now than fumbling later. He climbed back onto the bed, and moved up, his hands smearing the paint now, soft from the heat and sweat of Sam's skin the pictures were smooth under his fingers, leaving tingling and cool streaks on his hands. He knelt up across his chest, a leg to either side as he leaned over him, his hands finding a grip around his brother's wrists.

“Sam,” He called his name, trying to get his attention. “Sammy, look up, c'mon man. Eyes on me.”

His own voice was lower, a deeper rumble with arousal, but he could still talk. Sam was practically a vibrating mass of need on the bed. It took a few more tries but Sam finally focused on him, breathing erratically and finding his voice a needy rasp of sound.

“Y- yeah... Dean?”

Dean shuddered and then licked his lips, tasting salt on them but he didn't get distracted by the taste of Sam on his mouth.

“Open up. C'mon Sammy.”

Sam blinked but then his eyes went bright with understanding and he shifted his shoulders, tilting his head back a bit and letting his lips part, his tongue dancing over them, moistening them. Dean moaned himself and then raised himself up and forward, until Sam could lift his head and catch his own erection with his mouth. Dean moaned and leaned his head back, feeling the hat still on his head scrape against his shoulders as he rocked down and forward. Sam called his mouth all sorts of names, one of his favourites was 'cock-sucking', but his brother's mouth was an equally hot well of sin. He gripped the thick wrists and rocked into his brother's mouth, since Sam was pinned by the position and couldn't get a good motion going.

The room was stifling now, the heat had probably kicked on, adding to the heat they were giving off into the air and he could feel sweat dripping down his temples from under the edge of the black cowboy hat, but he didn't take it off, or the black vest. Sam seemed to like it, he was staring at him hungrily, his lips rounded around him, vibration in his throat all that remained of desperate moans. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away though, he shuddered and pulled away, scooting backwards so that he could lean down and kiss his brother again, swallowing the sounds that escaped from Sam. 

He fumbled beside them, and finally found the bottle he'd dropped, pulling away with a gasp and then backing down the long body spread out before him. He kissed his hip as he shifted between the muscled thighs and opened the flip-top lid, emptying the gel into the palm of his hand before he tossed the bottle away. He dipped his fingers in the rapidly melting puddle and pressed two into Sam. His brother's hands were wrapped in the rope binding him, and Dean could feel him trying to move the two fingers deeper. They did this enough that Sam didn't need as much delicate preparation as he did in the beginning, so Dean quickly pushed in a third, curling his fingers to torment him from the inside. 

Then he pulled them away and spread the now-liquid left in his palm on his own cock before lining himself up and rolling his hips forward. Sam let out a long, low noise, his whole body bowing upwards, eyes staring at the ceiling, though they saw nothing, Dean was sure. Dean himself couldn't see much besides the white sparks flashing through his brain as Sam's body clamped around him, hot, wet and desperate. He paused, taking a shuddering breath before he shifted his weight, his boots rasping against the bedclothes and Sam's skin. 

“Fucking... MOVE, Dean... I- I can't...”

Dean's head jerked up at the rasping sound of his brother's voice, shuddering around the words as he barely moved his lips, unable to come down. Dean growled and curved his hands under Sam, lifting his hips a little as he pulled back and thrust forward, his body framed in black leather under the hard lights of the room. Sam was watching him, and Dean locked his eyes with his brother's as they strained together, Dean's more compact body surging forward and back as he worked them both into oblivion. 

Sam came first, which wasn't much of a shock, since Dean had been deliberately torturing him the whole time, but the rhythmic clenching of his body threw Dean into his own orgasm, making him jerk his hips forward hard, his hands slapping down against the bed as his back bowed, his head resting against Sam's chest, knocking the hat off at last to tumble to the bed.

“Fuck, Sam!”

Dean shuddered and bucked against him a couple more times before he couldn't hold himself up anymore and slid out as he collapsed against Sam. He could feel his brother's body still trembling with aftershocks, and he laid there for a minute, boneless, before he peeled himself up and gently started untying him, unwrapping the rope carefully. He saw some robe burns, but it wasn't from the stuff being too tight, it was from how Sam had twisted his hands in them, rubbing himself raw. He gently eased Sam's arms down, his own hands shaking as he rubbed the cramps from his muscles and then laid himself down against his side.

They lie there in silence for a long time, long enough for the heat to kick on again, and sweat to cool to an uncomfortable clamminess before Dean spoke, his words puffing warm air against Sam's shoulder.

“Best surprise gift ever.”

He felt rather than saw Sam turn his head and look at him before his brother laughed, a broken noise from his abused throat.

“You're still wearing your boots.”

Dean grinned and didn't bother opening his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. This was inspired by an actual episode and by my friend who said she wanted to see Dean wearing a cowboy hat during sex. In Season 6 Episode 18 when the boys go to the old West, Sam makes a remark about Dean having a fetish for the time period and it made me want to write this. I really hope you liked it and that I didn't ruin the episode (if you haven't seen it)!


End file.
